


Rolling on a River

by Terpischoria



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:16:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terpischoria/pseuds/Terpischoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daud's mind is beset with anticipation, fear and the desire for some sort of resolution. He has enough to worry about without Lizzy Stride adding to the mix. Takes place between Draper's Ward and Brigmore Manor missions in The Brigmore Witches DLC. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rolling on a River

They were only a mile out past the quarantine line and already Daud was feeling worried.

Well, worried was a relative term. He'd felt a lot of things, ever since he'd blinked onto that gazebo and slid his blade through the Empress' heart., her bodyguard watching helplessly the entire time. The mild satisfaction at a job completed. The nagging sense of something being ill at ease. The sickening dread when he realised the feeling was guilt. The anger at feeling guilty. Then just the blank, pervasive melancholy when he saw where the city was headed, and all thanks to him.

Straight down into the Void.

The long and the short of it being that something as banal as worry was almost refreshing. Of course, this particular worry was more than whether or not they'd have enough fresh water to last the next month, or if one of his lieutenants had caught the plague in a moment of carelessness. It concerned a mad witch, her bloodthirsty coven, a little girl who seemed to be the key to everything and the fate of an empire.

He stared out over the misty river, eyes unseeing. He wasn't watching the blue-black water, or the faint blue sky above, or even the sizeable complement of Dead Eels milling about on the deck below who were running the damn ship. Not even his hand-picked band of Whalers, most of whom were bunking below. His fraught mind occluded all other concerns. First and foremost among his thoughts was what waited for them up ahead. Brigmore Manor, long abandoned and an ill-omened ruin.

Now it's crawling with witches. Delilah's band of loyal followers. Ex-noblewomen, power-hungry creatives, those with more ambition than sense; she's got them all. What makes them that way? What makes them follow a person like Delilah?

His weathered face soured as he considered the obvious parallel. Daud, the Knife of Dunwall and murderer of an empress. Leading a gang of shadowy assassins who strike terror into the hearts of all. Are we so different? Have I ever stopped to question why my whalers are so loyal?

It all came down to power. That the two groups surely had in common. The mystic touch of the Outsider bound the threads, sewed them together, brought them…cohesiveness. That willingness to follow. That natural submission. Daud was entirely aware of the arcane link he had with his men, but he'd never looked too deeply into how far it extended. Perhaps that was something he ought to do…

But first, he had to survive Brigmore. He had to stop Delilah. Out there, in the mist, the bitch was waiting. With all her partners in crime.

He forced his mind back to matters of import. Strategy. Tactics. Thomas has already jumped ship, to scout ahead. Get the lay of the land. See any possible attacks directed at us or the Undine. Can we make it to where the manor abuts the river? Will Delilah have traps waiting? Almost certainly. How many does she have under her command? What powers do they wield?

That was the eternal curse of the Outsider and his damn powers. You never knew what you were going to get. Daud remembered the day he'd suddenly discovered he could bring his assassins to him in the blink of an eye. He'd focused the power, released it-and then Rinaldo had appeared, mask askew, eyes wide with shock.

The memory was amusing, but it failed to bring a smile to his lips. There was simply too much going on. Inside his head, and out there in the mists.

A clattering on the steps, and a voice behind him. "You stare any longer at that river and you're gonna rip a hole in it."

Lizzy Stride, true to her name, strode past him and flung herself against the railing with a clang and a muttered swear word. She rubbed a bicep sullenly. "Damn irons. Got me stinging like bloodflies were having me for lunch. You couldn't have busted me out of Coldridge earlier?"

"We didn't need a boat then. We were busy with…other things."

"Uh-huh. I heard your boys talking about it downstairs. Mutiny or some shit like that?"

"Something like that." Daud turned away slightly, so Stride wouldn't see the jagged frown that bloomed on his face. It hurt to think about Billie. Talking about it was worse. So he preferred not to do either.

"So, you planning on telling me what this is all about?" Lizzy threw a hand in the air, gesturing. "I mean, you might be some big-shot assassin, but I can see right through you. You're scared of something. Whatever's upriver, I'm gonna guess."

"Don't you have somewhere to be, Lizzy? Steering the ship, maybe?" He was annoyed at himself for letting her rile him.

"Fuck that. Annabelle's helmsman at the moment. Helmswoman. Whatever. She's doing an alright job for someone missing two fingers. Plus, this is my fucking ship. If I want to be here, I can be here. Clear?"

"Clear."

"Good. Now start talking, Daud." Lizzy dipped into her leather jacket, yanked out a stub of a cigarette and set it to her lips. "What's got the Knife of Dunwall so interested that it makes him set sail with the nastiest gang in the city to some old manor where no-one lives any more?"

Daud wondered what the repercussions of telling Lizzy Stride about his mission would be. She was a big player in Dunwall's underworld, and she would almost certainly talk. Or one of her men would. In fact, it was probably a good idea to liquidate her and her men at the end of all this…

Then he realised where that sort of thinking had gotten him, and before he knew it he was speaking in a low voice. "We're headed to Brigmore Manor. You know of it?"

Lizzy scratched the shaved side of her head. "Maybe. Belonged to some bankrupt noble family, or some old spiel like that. Bastards got bought out by the rest of the scum-sucking trash living in wealth." She spat tobacco over the railing. "Say what you like about the gangs in this city but if we had the choice between slow death and quick, we'd take quick every single time."

"We're due for a reckoning with a witch. Delilah Copperspoon. She brought the Overseers down on us. This is retribution."

"A witch?" Lizzy looked at him incredulously. "You don't actually believe that crap, do you? All the black magic doom and gloom that the Abbey churns out?"

Daud raised his left hand, and the Mark underneath his glove blazed into life. Streams of green and orange light flowed off it, flowing up into the air where they dissipated with quick flashes.

Down on the deck, a whaler who had come up for fresh air snapped his gaze to the balcony where the two gang leaders stood. Inclining his head, he quickly went back downstairs, rubbing the back of his left hand.

For her part, Lizzy Stride watched the display with raised eyebrows. Then she spat again. "If by some fucking miraculous chance I have brats of my own some day, I'll tell them all the shit I done. All the ugly parts. But when I get to this part…" She laughed, harsh and loud. "They're gonna take one look at me and say, "Mama, your brain's been eaten by hagfish spawn." And then I'll make 'em feel the back of my hand."

"You'd be better off not to tell them, Lizzy. Knowledge is power. It's also a danger."

"Oh, and so what the fuck are you then, a nurse?" Lizzy flicked her cigarette away and folded her arms. "What's life without a little adventure? A little risk?"

"Safe. To be interesting in this world is a curse, Lizzy. Nobody knows that more than I."

"Odd choice of words. Interesting."

"Not mine." Belongs to a black-eyed bastard who's only too eager to see this all end in blood and ruin. Who might even be rooting for Delilah. She was chosen, wasn't she?

"Huh." For a few minutes, they just watched the river roll by, the Undine cutting through it seamlessly. For a ship of such size, it was more graceful than Daud had been expecting.

"So it's all for revenge then? Payback?" Of course Lizzy was the first to break the silence.

"Just about. A lot of my men died because of her. Probably more will at Brigmore. But she needs to be an example."

"You know," she said dreamily, staring out onto the waters, "you can be so full of shit."

"What?"

"You heard me. Full of shit. I don't doubt you care about your boys, and sure, maybe this witch pissed you off something fierce. But what, I'm supposed to believe you'll ride in, stab a few dozen people and then…go home?" Lizzy bared her teeth, which were filed to points. "Too neat. Too clean. Besides, you don't strike me as the sort of guy who stakes this much on a vendetta."

Daud narrowed his eyes, ever so slightly. He was starting to tire of Lizzy Stride's company. "And who says that I am not?" He took a step towards her, and Stride put one hand on the hilt of her gaff hook. "I killed an empress. You might've heard about that."

"Yeah, and how's that been working out? Feeling good about yourself, then? Feel like you're doing the world a good turn?"

He didn't answer. He was too busy grinding his teeth. Too busy thinking about a girl without a mother, and a Lord Protector who would find him, sooner or later.

"That's what I thought." Lizzy sighed, and tugged a sleeve on her jacket to guard against a sudden cold breeze. "I hope you've got a plan, Daud. 'Cause right now, you're sailing blind." She turned and walked back towards the stairs.

A sudden ray of sunlight sliced through the fog, and turned the air gold. Amid the joyous shouts of those on deck, Daud returned his stolid gaze to the river. I plan to kill Delilah. I plan to save Emily Kaldwin.

Anything else…is too far from my reach.


End file.
